Worth It

Cruz was the last to return from the track this Wednesday evening, sweat dripping down her face after running extra laps for reasons she couldn’t quite articulate. If pressed, she’d say she needed the conditioning. But a small, secret part of her knew she was restless—unable to stop replaying the faint encouragement Aaliyah had given her during their last few office hour sessions.

When Cruz pushed open the locker room door, she found the place deserted except for Bobby and Randy seated on a bench, both scrolling through their phones. Tex and Tucker were nearby, rummaging in their lockers.

“Hey,” she said, trying not to sound as drained as she felt. “Everyone else gone?”

“Pretty much,” Bobby replied without looking up. “Except for us losers with no social life.”

Randy laughed. “Speak for yourself. I’ve got a thriving social life—I’m just waiting for you slowpokes so we can head to dinner.”

Tex let out a dramatic sigh. “And also, we heard that Ms. Hot TA—” he paused, smirking at Cruz, “is scheduled to leave campus soon. We were thinking of orchestrating a ‘chance’ encounter.”

Cruz’s heart stuttered. “Wait, what?”

Tucker spun around, a broad grin on his face. “Yeah, we figure if we time it right, maybe you just happen to bump into her as she’s heading out. Smooth, right?”

Cruz scowled, cheeks warming. “Smooth is the last word I’d use. Come on, guys, I’m not that desperate.”

Bobby raised an eyebrow. “You’re not desperate—you’re oblivious. Or at least trying to be. We’re just giving fate a little nudge.”

Cruz planted her hands on her hips. “You realize she could consider this, like, stalking or harassment. Right?”

Randy chuckled. “Relax, Manuelos, we’re not telling you to hide in the bushes. Just walk out the same exit at the same time. A normal, casual exit. If she’s there, she’s there.”

Cruz rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t deny the uneasy surge of excitement. “This is insane. She’s my TA—shouldn’t we all just mind our business?”

Bobby closed her phone with a snap and stood. “Fine, if you don’t want the help, we’ll drop it. But you can’t blame us for trying. We get tired of hearing you sigh about her.”

Cruz swallowed, glancing away. They’re exaggerating. Right? I’m not that obvious…

Yet, the truth was she had spent more time in Aaliyah’s office hours—partly to refine her paper, partly to soak up the rare warmth that flickered in Aaliyah’s eyes whenever they talked. The tension that hovered between them had only grown. Cruz had caught herself leaning a little too close, smiling a bit too eagerly, but Aaliyah always pulled back with a polite, professional air.

Despite Aaliyah’s cool exterior, Cruz sensed there was more underneath. The question was: Could she—and her meddling track friends—do anything about it?

--

The next day found Cruz in the library, rummaging for a specific text about NGOs. She and Bobby were scanning the shelves, referencing a list Aaliyah had emailed her.

Bobby suddenly nudged Cruz and pointed to a table in the far corner, where Tex, Randy, and Tucker were huddled like conspirators. “What are they doing here?”

Cruz frowned. “Maybe they’re actually studying?”

Bobby snorted. “Right. I bet they’re scheming.”

Sure enough, as soon as the pair approached the table, Tucker leaned back with a grin. “Manuelos, fancy seeing you here.”

“Fancy indeed,” Tex added, drumming his fingers on a closed textbook. “We might have some inside info on Ms. Amrohi’s schedule today.”

Cruz groaned, dropping her stack of books on the table. “Guys, seriously? I came here to do actual work, not to plan ambushes.”

Randy shrugged. “What if it’s not an ambush? What if it’s more like a friendly bump-into session near the library’s coffee station?”

Bobby shrugged as if the plan were already set in motion. “Look, you said she usually does some of her own research in the evenings, right? That’s prime time for a run-in.”

Cruz’s mind drifted to the times she’d seen Aaliyah in the quiet halls, carrying stacks of academic journals. There’d been a moment just last week when she’d nearly helped carry them—if she’d had the guts to step forward. But she’d hesitated, and Aaliyah had breezed by with a polite nod.

“All right,” Cruz said with a weary sigh. “If we ‘run into’ her, can we at least not be weird about it?”

“No promises,” Tex joked, earning him a playful smack on the head from Bobby.

They settled around the table, opening laptops and spreading out notes. For a while, they genuinely worked—Cruz even found a few articles that might bolster her argument about how NGOs cooperate with local leaders. But every so often, she’d catch Randy or Tucker darting glances toward the library entrance, as if anticipating Aaliyah’s grand arrival.

Finally, after nearly an hour of fruitless vigil, Tucker huffed. “Maybe she’s not coming tonight.”

Cruz actually felt a pang of disappointment. She can’t be here all the time. She tried to stifle the irrational desire to see her. “Told you we can’t just plan on these things.”

Randy shrugged. “Worth a shot. Guess we’ll have to set up a coffee shop run-in next.”

Cruz buried her face in her hands. “No. Absolutely not. This is humiliating.”

Bobby patted her shoulder consolingly. “You secretly love it.”

Cruz didn’t answer, but her blush said it all.

--

Though Cruz swore she wouldn’t participate in any more elaborate schemes, fate (or meddling friends) had other plans. Two days later, on a crisp afternoon, she was crossing campus with Bobby after track practice. They’d cleaned up quick, deciding to grab a coffee before a group study session.

They stepped into a small cafe just off NYU’s main plaza. The smell of roasted beans and fresh pastries enveloped them. Students clustered at small wooden tables, some typing away on laptops, others chatting animatedly.

“What’s your poison?” Bobby asked, eyeing the menu overhead.

Cruz hummed. “I’ll just do an iced latte.” She reached for her wallet, then paused. Her gaze had drifted to a figure by the corner—a petite woman with dark hair, wearing a neat blouse, reading intently on a tablet.

Aaliyah.

Cruz’s heartbeat kicked up. This is not a drill. She grabbed Bobby’s arm. “She’s here,” she whispered.

Bobby glanced over, lips curving into a wicked grin. “Well, well. Time to say hi?”

Cruz tried to sound casual. “She looks busy. Maybe I shouldn’t—”

But Bobby was already marching up to the counter to order, leaving Cruz hovering awkwardly in the cafe’s line. Should I just ignore her? She might not even want to be disturbed. But a warmth curled in Cruz’s belly at the prospect of a casual chat outside of office hours.

As they got their coffees, Bobby angled her head toward Aaliyah’s table. “Look, she hasn’t even noticed us yet. Are you going to do something or not?”

Cruz squared her shoulders. Here goes nothing. She approached Aaliyah’s table, heart hammering. “Hi, Aaliyah.”

Aaliyah looked up, surprise flickering across her face, followed by a polite smile. “Cruz. Hello.”

She looked from Cruz to Bobby, her tablet still in hand. “Grabbing a coffee?”

Cruz tried not to sound too breathless. “Yeah, just finished track practice. Needed the caffeine.”

Bobby took a seat uninvited, waving cheerily. “Hope we’re not interrupting. What’re you reading?”

Aaliyah glanced at the tablet, the corners of her mouth lifting slightly. “Research for my dissertation. I like to get out of my apartment sometimes—less claustrophobic.”

Cruz nodded, awkwardly resting her coffee on the table’s edge. She noticed Aaliyah’s impeccable posture and the faint, rose-like scent that clung to her hair. “Makes sense. I usually can’t focus in my dorm.”

A slight pause, then Aaliyah gestured at the empty chairs. “Feel free to join me if you’d like.”

Bobby’s eyes sparkled. “Sure, if you don’t mind. Manny here can talk your ear off about her NGO research.”

Cruz shot Bobby a glare but gingerly sat, mindful of how close she was to Aaliyah. “Right, sorry if we’re bothering you. We can just say hi and go.”

Aaliyah shook her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “No bother at all.” She looked at Cruz, her gaze steady. “How’s the paper coming along?”

Cruz felt a surge of excitement at the question. “Better, actually. Thanks for the references you sent; they really helped me refine my angle.”

Aaliyah nodded, a flicker of warmth in her expression. “I’m glad.”

Bobby sipped her coffee, a knowing smirk dancing on her lips. Cruz tried to ignore it, forcing herself to maintain eye contact with Aaliyah. But every nerve in her body buzzed with an awareness that her friend was definitely scheming in real time.

They chatted for a few minutes about academic life. Aaliyah mentioned how Professor Asif was pushing for more rigorous grading, and Cruz shared that track practice was amping up with the upcoming meets. The conversation felt… comfortable, more personal than their office hour discussions.

Eventually, Aaliyah glanced at her tablet and sighed. “I should probably get back to reading. I have a deadline this weekend.”

Bobby took the hint, standing. “Sure, we’ll let you be. Good seeing you, though.”

Cruz echoed the sentiment, hesitating a heartbeat longer. “Yeah, thanks for letting us crash your spot.”

Aaliyah’s eyes met hers, and for a second, a gentle sincerity shone there. “I don’t mind. Really.”

--

The next close encounter happened on Sunday morning—when Cruz, bored and awake too early, decided to hit the campus gym. Usually, she’d run outside, but the weather had turned unexpectedly icy overnight.

She tugged a sweatshirt on, stuffed her phone in a pocket, and jogged to the gym. Once inside, she found the place relatively deserted—just a handful of students on treadmills or lifting weights.

She chose a treadmill near the back corner and started her routine, gradually ramping up the speed. Music piped through her earbuds, fueling her pace. She was so focused on her run that she nearly missed the flash of movement a few machines down: a petite figure with dark hair, carefully stepping onto an elliptical.

Aaliyah?

Cruz blinked, nearly stumbling. She works out here?

She quickly collected herself, adjusting her speed. She tried not to stare—bad enough she was gawking from a distance. But the curiosity tugged at her: Should she say hi? Or would that be weird, seeing as they were both sweaty and not exactly in a professional context?

Before she could decide, Aaliyah turned her head. Their eyes met across the rows of cardio equipment, and Cruz mustered a small wave. Aaliyah’s expression flickered with what might have been surprise, then a warm smile graced her lips. She waved back, then lowered her gaze to the elliptical’s console, as if to focus on her workout.

Cruz, don’t be a creeper. She forced herself to keep running, letting the pounding of her feet distract from the flutter in her chest.

After about twenty minutes, Cruz slowed to a jog, then a walk, mentally debating whether to approach. She stepped off the treadmill, heart still hammering, and decided to do some light stretching at the mats near the wall.

Moments later, she heard footsteps. Aaliyah appeared beside her, wearing athletic leggings and a tank top, hair pinned up. Cruz swallowed. She looks so… normal. Usually, she wore polished outfits, exuding professional elegance. This was Aaliyah in a casual, almost vulnerable setting. The difference made Cruz’s pulse skip.

“Hey,” Aaliyah said softly, grabbing a foam roller. “Didn’t know you came here on Sundays.”

Cruz shrugged. “I usually run outside, but the cold got me. You?”

Aaliyah began rolling her calves. “I come here when I need a break from reading. Clears my mind, you know?”

“Yeah, definitely.” Cruz stretched her arms overhead, trying to steady her breathing. “It’s kind of surreal seeing you here. In a good way, I mean.”

Aaliyah laughed lightly. “I’m not chained to my books all the time.”

Cruz ventured a playful grin, ignoring the flicker of nerves. “Guess not.” She paused, then said, “So, how’s your dissertation going? Everything on track?”

Aaliyah hesitated, a shadow crossing her face. “Mostly. Professor Asif wants more secondary sources integrated, which is… time-consuming. I’ll manage.”

They chatted for a minute or two, the conversation surprisingly easy. But Cruz noticed a shift, a subtle wariness in Aaliyah’s eyes whenever they locked gazes for too long. She recognized it as the same caution Aaliyah displayed in office hours—like there was a line she refused to cross.

Eventually, Aaliyah cleared her throat. “I’d better get back to my workout, or I’ll lose motivation.”

Cruz nodded, forcing a casual tone. “Sure, see you around.”

As Aaliyah walked away, an odd mix of satisfaction and longing churned in Cruz’s chest. We keep running into each other, but it feels like she’s always one step out of reach.

--

Later that week, Cruz took a deep breath and decided enough was enough—if she wanted answers, she had to test the waters. She had another scheduled office hour session with Aaliyah to discuss her revised outline. This time, she planned to push the conversation just enough to see if Aaliyah might reciprocate the tension that had been building between them.

She arrived at the TA office with her notes in hand, heart racing. Aaliyah welcomed her in, offering the usual polite smile. The space smelled faintly of lemon tea, a comforting aroma amid the musty textbooks.

“How’s the outline shaping up?” Aaliyah asked, gesturing to the seat across her desk.

Cruz settled in, noticing how Aaliyah’s eyes flicked over her figure briefly. A flicker of something? Cruz took it as courage. Here goes. “I’m feeling better about it. I refined the focus on Yemen, specifically how NGOs coordinate with tribal leaders.”

Aaliyah leaned forward, skimming the first page of Cruz’s outline. “This is good. You’ve clearly identified your scope. The next step is to gather real-life testimony or case studies—maybe official statements from NGO workers?”

“Yeah, I was thinking I could email some organizations,” Cruz said, letting a little more enthusiasm show. “Unless you have, you know, top-secret connections you can share.” She said the last part with a playful smile.

Aaliyah’s lips curved, though she kept her tone professional. “I wish I could say I have top-secret intel, but I’m afraid not. I do know some researchers who focus on that area—if you’re really interested, I could put you in touch.”

Cruz’s heart leaped. “That would be amazing.”

They discussed specifics for the next few minutes, but the air between them buzzed with something that went beyond academia. Cruz braved an attempt at small talk: “You look tired—long nights with your dissertation?”

Aaliyah gave a soft huff of laughter. “Something like that. There’s never enough time in the day.”

“Yeah, well, if you ever need a coffee break, I’m always game,” Cruz offered, trying to strike a careful balance between flirtation and casualness. Please don’t shoot me down.

Aaliyah paused, pen tapping the desk lightly. A beat too long. Then she lowered her gaze. “I appreciate that. But, you know, my schedule is pretty rigid, and we have to maintain certain boundaries.”

Cruz’s chest tightened. “Right, of course. I understand.”

The momentary hush in the room felt charged, like they both knew there was more to be said. Aaliyah cleared her throat, returning her attention to the outline. “Anyway, this is really strong work. Keep refining your references, and let me know how it goes with the NGOs.”

Cruz exhaled, a mix of relief and disappointment tangling in her gut. She’d put out a small signal, and Aaliyah had politely sidestepped it. Not exactly a rejection, but also not acceptance.

Before leaving, Cruz mustered a last attempt. “Thanks for all the help. Seriously, I don’t know if you give this much guidance to everyone, but it means a lot.”

Aaliyah’s eyes softened, but her voice remained carefully measured. “I enjoy working with students who show genuine interest in the subject. And you… definitely show that.”

Cruz swallowed. “I do.” She lingered a second longer, searching Aaliyah’s expression for some sign of deeper meaning, but found only a gentle but resolute calm.

She nodded, gathering her things. “See you in class, then.”

“Yes,” Aaliyah said, leaning back in her chair. “See you.”

--

That evening, Cruz trudged into the student lounge where the track bros were huddled around a vending machine, debating whether it was worth shaking the machine to free a stuck candy bar.

She threw her bag onto a nearby couch. “Hey, if you guys are done being criminals, I could use a listening ear.”

Tex smirked, jostling the machine. “What’s up? Ms. Hot TA?”

Randy snickered. “Let me guess—she shot you down?”

Cruz sighed, slumping into the couch. “Not exactly. I kind of flirted, and she… politely reminded me we have boundaries. So basically, yes.”

Tucker popped a gumball into his mouth. “But did she say ‘no’ outright?”

“No,” Cruz admitted. “She just… gently sidestepped.”

Tex finally gave up on the vending machine, shaking his head as he turned to Cruz. “I mean, can you blame her? You’re still her student.”

“Exactly,” Cruz said, leaning her head against the couch cushions. “I don’t want to make her life harder. If she’s worried about crossing a line, maybe I should back off.”

Randy frowned. “But do you think she’s actually uninterested, or just being cautious?”

Cruz recalled the flicker of hesitation in Aaliyah’s eyes, the quickness with which she changed the subject. “I honestly can’t tell. She’s so professional. Part of me thinks she might like me, but part of me thinks I’m imagining it.”

Tucker gave a dramatic shrug. “Then keep doing your thing. Let it be her decision if she wants to keep it professional.”

Tex added, “We can help orchestrate more run-ins, if that helps.”

Cruz let out a weak laugh. “No more orchestrations. Enough close calls have happened as is—library, coffee shop, the gym.” She paused, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “It feels like destiny is either playing a joke on us or trying really hard to push us together.”

Randy clapped her on the shoulder. “Then let destiny do the work. You just keep showing up, being your charming self, and see what happens.”

Cruz’s heart twisted with a mix of hope and resignation. Is that enough?

--

Later that night, Cruz and Bobby found themselves back in their dorm, rummaging for a late snack. Bobby observed Cruz with a thoughtful frown as she nuked leftover pizza in the microwave.

“You seem bummed,” Bobby commented, pulling out a soda from the fridge.

Cruz sighed. “I am and I’m not. I guess I knew the TA-student thing would be messy. But I can’t help… wanting something more.”

Bobby studied her with surprising seriousness. “Look, I know I joked a lot, but I get that this is complicated. Especially with everything else you’re dealing with—graduation, your family stuff.”

Cruz bit her lip, heart aching at the mention of her nonexistent support system. “Yeah. It’s not like I can bring her home to meet my folks or anything,” she said bitterly. “My dad’s gone, my mom’s… you know.”

Bobby set down the soda can gently. “Still, if you truly connect with someone, you can’t let fear keep you from exploring it.”

“Easier said than done.” Cruz grabbed the microwaved pizza, burning her fingers slightly. She winced, dropping it onto a plate. “Look at how Aaliyah downplays everything. She’s obviously concerned about ethics or professionalism, and I don’t want to jeopardize her position.”

Bobby folded her arms. “Maybe the best approach is to keep focusing on the academic stuff. Build trust. If there’s something real there, it’ll find a way out eventually.”

Cruz mulled that over. Maybe that’s the only path that makes sense. “I guess. Or it could blow up in my face.”

Bobby smiled gently. “We can’t predict the future. But I’ll say this: you’ve come too far, through too much, to let fear stop you from living.”

A warmth spread through Cruz’s chest at her friend’s words. “Thanks, Bob.”

She took a bite of pizza, half-lost in her own thoughts. Can I handle being patient? Or will it drive me crazy?

--

Over the next week, Cruz noticed Aaliyah keeping their interactions firmly within academic boundaries. In class, Aaliyah called on Cruz a few times, praising her for well-researched points but not lingering in conversation. During office hours, she remained courteous yet distant, offering precise advice and swiftly moving on. Even the accidental run-ins—they still happened, but each time, Aaliyah gave a polite nod or smile before going her own way.

Cruz took it as a sign she should ease up on the flirtation, at least publicly. She doubled down on her research, stacking more journal articles on her desk until the dorm looked like a mini-library. She prepared for the next track meet with renewed vigor, pushing her body to its limits.

In the quiet moments before sleep, she caught herself thinking about the faint tension in Aaliyah’s eyes whenever they locked gazes. There has to be something there, doesn’t there?

But each day that passed in careful distance wore on her heart, leaving her uncertain whether they were building toward a moment of clarity—or drifting apart altogether.

--

A small sign of hope appeared on a Thursday afternoon. Cruz was returning from an exhausting session of 400-meter repeats at the track when her phone buzzed. She glanced down to see an email notification:

From: A. Amrohi

Subject: Potential Interview Sources

Hello Cruz,

I was doing some reading and came across two NGO workers who conducted field research on Yemen’s tribal negotiations. If you’re interested, I can forward their contact details. They’re often open to student inquiries. Let me know if you’d like to follow up.

Best,

Aaliyah

Cruz’s heart leaped. She was thinking about my paper?

She quickly typed a reply:

Hey Aaliyah,

That would be amazing! Thank you for keeping an eye out. I’d love their contact info.

Hope you’re doing well,

Cruz

She hesitated before hitting send, debating whether to add something more personal. No, keep it professional. With a sigh, she tapped send.

Yet, all evening, she felt a lightness in her chest, an inexplicable giddiness. Even if Aaliyah was downplaying any personal connection, she was still actively helping Cruz succeed—and that felt like something more than mere duty.

--

Friday morning, Cruz woke earlier than usual, mind churning with the upcoming track meet that weekend and the next steps in her paper. She paused in front of her mirror, taking in the reflection of a young woman who’d come a long way from the chaotic home she’d left behind. I’m finishing strong, she told herself. I have to.

The tension with Aaliyah still hummed below the surface, but Cruz decided she wouldn’t push further. She’d respect the line Aaliyah seemed determined to keep—until Aaliyah chose to cross it herself. If that moment never came, well, she’d survive. She always did.

She grabbed her backpack, stepping out into the chilly campus morning. Students hustled by, coffee cups in hand, chatter ringing through the air. Somewhere in the crowd, Aaliyah was living her own life—juggling her dissertation, her own life, the subtle longing in her eyes that Cruz had caught only in fleeting glimpses.

A small voice inside whispered Maybe one day, but for now, Cruz tucked the thought away. She had a race to run, a paper to write, and a future to secure.

As she headed toward the athletic center, Bobby appeared at her side, phone in hand. “Ready for the meet?”

Cruz nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah. Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Bobby grinned, matching her stride. “Don’t forget, you’ve got a fan or two who might be watching.”

Cruz rolled her eyes, though a warm thrill flickered inside her. Even if Aaliyah’s not in the stands, I’ll do my best.

The campus loomed before them, a tapestry of ambition and uncertainty. But Cruz carried a quiet resolve in her heart—whatever happened next with Aaliyah, she wouldn’t run from her feelings. Not anymore.